Monday, July 29, 2013

I wrote this piece a month ago on the Public's Comedy of Errors in Central Park. But due to delays first by the press rep & then by the editor, it never got published. However, positive feedback and encouragement from friends and colleagues (plus pride in my own work) have overcome my disappointment. I hope you find it illuminating.]

Recently, I’ve
been questioning my overwhelming passion for Shakespeare. How can I square his
17th-century beliefs with my own 21st-century liberal politics?
It’s easy to ignore his love of the aristocracy, but much harder to ignore his
views of women (to say nothing of, say, Jews or blacks). As titanic and popular
as Shakespeare is, I’ve been wondering how relevant he is to the modern New
Yorker. In my search for answers, I spoke with Emily Bergl, currently the
female lead in The Comedy of Errors
at Shakespeare in the Park.

The Comedy of Errors, conveniently, provides an ideal
starting point for my inquiry. The farce takes place in Ephesus, a
Mediterranean city that devotes itself, like Bloomberg’s Manhattan, to
financial success. Its characters are businessmen, traders, and merchants: men
who treat out-of-town guests to the luxuries of the city, including dinner (offstage)
with an escort. When the long-lost twin of a local broker arrives, the resulting
confusions play havoc with his credit and reputation.

Since the play’s
setting—a city whose business is commerce and whose measure of success is
wealth—so aptly reflects contemporary New York, it dispenses quickly with my anxiety
about Shakespeare’s relevance. Additionally, it offers a superb venue for comparing
his Elizabethan views with my own principles. Shakespeare seems eager to
oblige, since early in the show, he stages a debate over a wife’s proper
behavior between Adriana, the broker’s spouse, and her sister, Luciana. Their conversation
ends equivocally: Adriana notes it’s easy for her sister to counsel
subservience, being unmarried.

Yet
historically, critics have assumed the playwright shared Luciana’s view—that
women should bow to their husband’s will—and have cast Adriana as a shrew in
need of taming. Bergl has a different take: “Adriana’s not really bucking the
question of marriage; she’s asking why she should be so powerless and why her
husband should have so much freedom.” So Adriana isn’t overbearing so much as
independent-minded. But then, too many men (and some women) hear a
strong-willed woman questioning the status quo and call her a bitch.

Shakespeare’s
reaction is more complex. The key to Adriana, and perhaps a path to
reconciliation between his politics and mine, comes halfway through the show. Luciana
confesses that Adriana’s husband has just made a pass at her (of course, it was
actually his twin). Adriana blasts her spouse, in an exchange worth quoting:

Luciana
Who would be jealous, then, of such a one?
No evil lost is wailed when it is gone.

Adriana
Ah, but I think him better than I say,
And yet would herein others’ eyes were worse.
Far from her nest the lapwing cries away.
My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse.

I love how
Adriana can’t commit to her anger because her love overwhelms it. This internal
paradox humanizes her, and lifts her above the absurd farce. Bergl does note a
problem, though: “In a modern, post-Freudian world, we call that ‘codependent.’
I do think that it’s a theme in Shakespeare that, while he admires deep,
all-consuming love, he also recognizes that it can be dangerous.”

Bergl makes what
happens next pivotal to her performance. A foolish servant arrives to fetch bail
money for Adriana’s husband, who’s been arrested for a large unpaid debt. This
sends her out into Ephesus to help her husband. Bergl explains, “The real
turning point for Adriana, when she realizes something is definitely wrong, is
when her husband is in debt.” Her motivation could even be viewed as an impulse
towards partnership, not in domestic arrangements but in financial deals. Not
only is Adriana not staying indoors patiently, as her sister had told her to
do, but she’s eager to participate in business transactions.

And so the
arc of the play bends constantly towards financial themes. Adriana sees her
opportunity to act and she takes it—in the parlance of this summer, she “leans
in.” As a Shakespeare fan, it’s heartening for me to see a complex female
character who embodies such a trendysensibility.

While that
puts my qualms about Shakespeare to rest, it raises further questions in my
mind about feminism and capitalism. After all, contemporary New York, like
Shakespeare’s Ephesus, is hardly a utopia of enlightened economics and
progressive politics. Women may be measured by the same index for success as
men. But those standards are financial and competitive, and I have a hard time
gauging success solely by wealth. On the positive side, however, there’s a hilarious
production of Shakespeare’s Comedy of
Errors in Central Park, and tickets are free.

About Me

I'm a freelance critic and dramaturg living in the NYC area (and available for hire!). I believe that plays should challenge the intellect and tickle the wit as well as stimulate the senses. They should tackle the most urgent social, political, and cultural subjects.
My tastes often run towards classic work but they also pull towards the avant-garde. My greatest challenge is to square my love for classics with an urge to look forward.
Also, I seek out theater with elements of science and science fiction onstage. My love for these themes and tropes stems from a belief that they're essential to understanding and reflecting life in the 21st century. Sci fi is also a popular narrative form that can champion free and unconventional thinking and inclusiveness.